I woke up thinking that the place at night had been pretty decent. Silence, darkness, that kind of calm that makes you sleep like a small, black log with a grey snout. But of course, dawn came. And dawn in the middle of a town has fine print. Right next door was a school and, when the children enter pre-recess mode, there's no earplug that's worth anything. Voices, cars, doors, parents in a hurry and engines starting. I looked at Daddy Edu with a face of "this wasn't in the description", but hey, this is also travelling. Sometimes you sleep with crickets and other times with screaming children.

We left around half past twelve, with the noise already archived in memory as a sound anecdote. Half an hour in the car and we arrived at Santiponce. We parked near the monastery of San Isidoro del Campo. I stayed in the camper, standing guard and thinking about life, while Daddy Edu and Uncle Joan went to visit the monastery. From the outside it is imposing. Big, serious, those places that seem made for speaking in a low voice even when you're alone. San Isidoro del Campo is from the fourteenth century, no less, founded by Guzmán el Bueno. It was first a Cistercian monastery and then Carthusian, which is monk premium level. Thick walls, huge cloisters, churches that seem designed so that the echo also prays. They say that one of the first Bibles was translated into Spanish there and that it had quite a bit of intellectual movement in its time. I didn't go in, but I know it anyway, because one listens a lot when travelling with curious humans.

After an hour they came back. Face of cultural satisfaction and a little cold. We started again and parked near the entrance of Italica. Here we repeated the play. Me in the camper, them to see Roman ruins. It started to drizzle, one of those that you don't know if they get you wet or just annoy you. Italica is amazing, even seen from afar. It was the first Roman city founded outside Italy. Trajan and Hadrian were born here, which is no small thing. It has a huge amphitheatre, one of the largest in the Empire, capable of seating twenty-five thousand people. Cobbled streets, houses with mosaics, remains of thermal baths, all very Roman and very orderly. Daddy Edu knows it by heart because a couple of years ago he worked there as a guide when he did bicycle tours around Seville. So he was pointing things out, telling little stories and surely thinking "I already know this, but it's still beautiful".

At three o'clock they closed Italica and the rain decided that it had already warmed up and that now it was time to fall in earnest. They went back to the car with that look of humans who have seen history and have wet socks. We parked in a wider place within the town of Santiponce and there it was time to stop for real. We ate in the camper and rested a bit. I did what I do best after eating. Sleep without guilt.

After six o'clock we went out again. It was raining quite a bit. We had to get water, no matter what. In the central square of Santiponce there is a fountain, so we went there. Daddy Edu and Uncle Joan went down with the jerrycans and came back soaked. Soaked from head to toe, but happy, because the tank was full. I was watching from inside thinking that this water thing is very necessary but not very grateful.

With the hydraulic duty fulfilled, we headed for the motorhome area of Castilleja de Guzmán. This time yes, the official car park. Upon arrival it looked like a United Nations meeting on wheels. German motorhomes, Dutch, a couple of English, French, Italian. It was only a matter of time before someone took out little flags. It was quite full, but there was a perfect space for us. As if it was waiting for us.

Here we stayed to sleep. Good place, good views and a peaceful atmosphere. While the humans settle in and put on a series on the big screen, I start writing. Because someone has to record that today we saw monks, Romans, heavy rain and full tanks. And that someone, as always, is me.